A Fine Black Sky
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
The continued dutiful censure of relief would often weaken the Vigilants who patrolled the Halls, the Squares, the Corridors and the Habitats. Because of this, their Superiors took a relaxed attitude to what was often referred to as a Comfort Break. One such Vigilant - his name unimportant, and his Tower thus also - desperate for some relief from his rapidly agonising gout, took to a dark corridor many of his colleagues often frequented.
There were the usual stains of effluvial relief and a space on a long stone bench which had been polished by the many rear ends of the Vigilants over the countless decades. But this Vigilant was not content merely with a quiet restorative restitution. He had sat in that spot for many a month, and every time he did, he looked at the dusty wood, cracked over time and without treatment, of the door that led - somewhere. He took less than a breath to decide it was today he would see what lay on the other side. He stood then and walked over to the door, grasping its handle and pulling. He expected it to remain stationary, for nothing to happen, but something did. The door opened into darkness and the Vigilant was left with the dilemma he thought would be robbed of him by a distinctly locked door.
The room the door opened into was empty. He felt mild relief at this, that he had been saved of the worry that some strange creature would attack him or something in keeping with that idiom would occur. It was then he noticed a set of winding stairs, leading up. He took them, his curiosity no less piqued and the anxiety that had fallen once he had been saved of any danger flooded him with a courage he ought not to have.
The stairs led to a dome-like room, where the ceiling of stone had been shaped carefully to look like a semi circular sphere. There was a window here also, and when the Vigilant pulled at it, it remained steadfast. The Vigilant began contemplating the darkness outside and what lay beyond this sealed window, when a scraping sounded behind him. He turned then, expecting to see some creature, a Superior, or a machine of death. But what occurred was less a scream, more a whimper. a hole in the ground opened up, which had been and continued to be the scraping sound.
From it rose a burnished and tarnished bronze bell-like offering. As the bell rose on a thin but strong silvery stand, a light from some outside source sprang upon the bronze, echoing the dome shape above, encompassing the same in a kind of golden fractured glow. The Vigilant was motionless, almost breathless and certainly mindless, in the animation before him. The contraption stopped at about waist height.
Nothing further happened, not for some long pregnant seconds, until the bronze dome wobbled a little and it split down the middle. Each side dropped slowly until it was at right angles to what was now revealed. Within was a delicate little set of scales. The Vigilant, with reverence, then fell to his knees. It was the object of legend. It was the machine of the Old Gods. He prayed.
Thus it was said that at the same time, the exact same thing had happened in all the other three Towers. The wisest of people were set upon it, in all four Towers and the City of Unity, to ascertain its meaning, if it truly be of the Gods. This continued for many long days until one particular scholar, Verisimilitudinous Zerra declared that, according to ancient Old Gods scriptures - named exclusively the Verbum Deos - that this was the Aplombinate Vesy of Kombayn and further beyond that, if the words were interpreted correctly, it was indeed the machine of legend, that was built to ensure absolute balance and peace amongst the Four Towers. It had been a contingent introduced by the Old Gods long before the Towers were Watchtowers, back when the Four Towers found themselves at mutual conflict. Tribal war. Once a peace had eventually been established - something that had taken much of the strength of the Gods back then - the scales were built to ensure that peace remained.
Over eons that peace had embedded itself within the culture of Unity, never broken out of malice, even though the machine had stopped working at some point in the past. No one knew how, when and why, but it hadn't mattered as the idea of the machine passed into legend and was as an allegory, or a parable for that altruistic and benevolent concept of the Old Gods, which no one could really say for certain ever existed.
And because of sensible minded people like Praefuscus XVII, the future of Unity, and thus prevention of chaos, would be within a hand’s grasp. Now, it would also be through faith that the balance would remain ever thus for the next few eons.
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